Steven R. Smith (Thuja, Mirza) has a demonstrated love for obscure, impenetrable, linguistically challenging monikers to accompany his musical projects. After spending a hot second trying to figure out exactly what Ulaan Khol means or refers to, I almost gave up. Luckily, I found reference to a Russian village called Ulan-Khol, which isn’t necessarily a dead ringer, but at least it provides some point of reference from which to frame my thoughts on this album.
So, settle back and contemplate Russia to the tune of some dark and plodding guitar melodrama. With the auditory inspiration of Ulaan Khol roiling through these headphones, I can’t help but think that blackthorn marmalade from the waters of the Black Sea would provide an appropriate level of tart sweetness on my pumpernickel toast. And although black bread was given a bad name in the Middle Ages (as the upper classes developed a preference for more resource- and time-intensive products made from white flour), I find that this classic Russian peasant food has just the right musky and earth-laden flavor composition to accompany Smith’s sonorous and bleakly appalling caterwaul of subterranean rotten compote.
Apparently, I is the beginning of what will be a trio of albums created by Smith as Ulaan Khol. When you know in advance that an album is to be part of a trilogy, a certain sense of expectation follows. It feels as though the first installment should set you up wanting more – expectant flan. At the very least, there should be a cliffhanger. I does little beyond providing somber amp vomit that slavers at a viscid rate. Perfect backdrop for grey-day mood dampening, if you’re the type who likes depression on top of depression for total depressive immersion. As track 9 peters out, we can only surmise that Smith will not be dropping his electric for a ukulele on the second installment. A grim specter awaits, friends, and things do not seem to be improving. Recommended for those who need less pop in their life.
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